


Studio Nights

by deadinderry



Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M, are all of my shippy ones w kirk the same, c'est la vie man, kind of they are but like, ride the lightning era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-01 05:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadinderry/pseuds/deadinderry
Summary: Lars was drunk. [RIDE THE LIGHTNING ERA]
Relationships: Kirk Hammett/Lars Ulrich
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Studio Nights

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno man, i wanted to write some klars and i didn't have a good idea so y'all get this

Lars was drunk.

This was not new. Lars was usually pretty drunk, especially when it got this late (read: the sun has set), but he was feeling it right now. He was drunk enough to run straight into a table and then think, ‘oh shit, I’m drunk.’

They were recording. Album number two—recording album two. And he didn’t know where Cliff and James had went, but they weren’t there anymore. Kirk still was, though, head bent over his guitar, curls falling around his face. There were a few empty bottles next to him, too, but he didn’t seem as drunk as Lars was definitely feeling at this very moment.

Which was dumb, because he should be drunk, too. So Lars went over and just sort of.

Draped himself over him.

Kirk turned his head. Their faces were about an inch apart. “Hi?” Kirk said.

“You need another drink,” Lars said. Kirk wriggled, a little bit, and Lars had to grab onto him so he didn’t fall off. “You need another drink, Kirk.”

“I can’t _get _one if you’re on top of me,” Kirk said. Which was fair. He couldn’t really move, really—Lars had wrapped his arms around Kirk’s chest, pinning his arms to his side. “I also can’t put down my _guitar_.”

“Sorry,” Lars said. He didn’t move, though. He liked how warm Kirk was, and he liked how Kirk’s hair tickled his face, and he liked seeing Kirk’s eyes up close. Kirk’s eyes were big and brown and ringed with very dark eyelashes. Almost pretty like a girl. Kirk was almost pretty like a girl.

“I’m what?”

Oh, he’d said that last part out loud.

“Almost pretty like a girl,” Lars said, again. Kirk frowned at him. “Yeah, you are.”

“I am not,” Kirk said.

“All the girls who come up—”

“Wouldn’t look twice if I didn’t have a guitar,” Kirk said. “I _never _had girls interested in me in high school.”

“What about guys?” The words were out before he could stop them and Kirk turned a little pink. “Did you have—or were you—guys?”

“No,” Kirk said, but his voice was a little strangled. Lars moved his face closer to Kirk’s, and Kirk tried to lean away, but, again, pretty trapped, so he settled for holding onto his guitar for dear life. “I mean—they _thought_—”

“Are you?”

“Huh?”

“Were they right?”

Kirk didn’t answer him for a long time, and then he said, eventually, “I like girls.”

“Is that it?” Lars stared straight into Kirk’s soul, it felt like. It felt like Kirk was lying. Or at least not saying everything. “I mean, sometimes a tour gets long.”

“Exodus never got big enough for a long tour when I was playing with them,” Kirk mumbled. “You guys were my first big tour.”

Lars was just drunk enough to take that as his invitation to finish closing the distance between them. Kirk was stock-still for the first second, but then Lars leaned farther into the kiss and so he did, too. He broke it only when he needed air, also because he was pretty sure his nose was running and that was gross and also made it hard to breathe.

“Can I put my guitar down?” Kirk asked.

“Go ahead.”

Kirk just looked at him, and Lars let go. Kirk put his guitar down and stood up, and Lars grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again. Kirk kissed him back; he was kind of limp, which was bad, because Lars was kind of loose, right now, and he had kind of been counting on Kirk being a major stabilizer instead of just a limp body in leather, so he sat Kirk back down and straddled his lap. Kirk pretty much let him do whatever. Lars wanted to tilt Kirk’s face up to kiss him better, Kirk was fine with it. Lars wanted to slide Kirk’s leather jacket off of him, Kirk was fine with it. Lars wanted to mark up Kirk’s neck—

Okay, Kirk kind of moved away at that. “’ld _still_—” Lars muttered. “Nobody’ll know it was me.”

“But—”

“It’s _fine_—”

“Lars, _behind you_.”

Lars did look up and look back and oh, “Hi, Cliff.”

“Hi,” Cliff said. He had a cigarette and a beer. “Having fun?”

“Yeah,” Lars said.

“Kirk? You having fun?”

“Um,” Kirk said. Lars glanced back at him. He was bright red. “Y…es?”

“All right,” Cliff said. He waved the hand with the cigarette in it and turned to leave. “Continue. I’ll leave. Not interested in watching.”

“Thank you,” Kirk said. The door slammed shut, and then Lars went straight back to Kirk’s neck. And this time, Kirk didn’t move away.


End file.
